Honey Pot
by Hcobb
Summary: The H-Ps wonder why they were created to be so human.


Mike turned away.

I searched back over the last few minutes and checked again to see if I'd  
said anything offensive. Wait, his eyes were on the one at the door. I  
understood, it was his own kind. Not the one at the door of course, but  
the one she was always with. I sent her a query as I looked away from him,  
''How does she fare?''

''My sister sleeps better recently, with me at her side,'' Ada replied, as  
she held the door open for her identical twin who entered clumsily, with  
the help of a crutch.

Was that sarcasm? I searched through human literature for 2.05 seconds and  
concluded that calling the girl with the crutch "Nadia Clarke" would have  
been more artificial, even mechanical.

"Um, Linda."

I turned back towards Mike. He was looking at me again. That utterance  
was some sort of query. I ran the probabilities and concluded that the  
most likely query would be a request for my current status, but that was  
only 11.4%. I decided that I should reply with a noncommittal request for  
him to clarify his request, "Yes?"

"What were we talking about?"

The human girl had such an impact on him that he lost what they call his  
train of thought. It was understandable, "You were telling me about the  
movie you saw last night."

"Yeah. And when the skyscraper exploded the robot grabbed the detective  
and jumped out to the ground."

I reviewed the video frames I had downloaded a few minutes earlier, "Seven  
floors, at least 70 feet down?"

"Wasn't it cool?"

"But it came to a stop in only two and half feet. Wouldn't that  
acceleration have broken detective Smith's back? Also how did the asphalt  
hold up under the robot's feet and what was the robot made of to withstand  
such a impact?"

"It's a movie. They're telling a story. We're not supposed to make a big  
deal about it."

I had failed. I read up on "suspension of disbelief" as I considered my  
response.

''Linkman is here.''

Erna was sitting closest to the door so she had heard first. I reviewed  
the past few seconds from my auditory sensors. Heavy footsteps yes, but it  
could be any adult male. Wait, almost in the noise floor, there was  
whistling. It was a nervous habit of his when he was approaching  
non-humans.

I turned to face the door and saw that the other H-Ps were doing the same.  
The humans looked at us then followed our example.

"Good morning, Mr. Linkman!" The humans said in unison with us.

He twitched then walked to his desk.

The humans took out their notebooks and writing instruments while we H-Ps  
simply focused our visual systems on the teacher.

Mr. Linkman keep his eyes down in the textbook as he read out the pages. I  
compared the what he said to what was written in the online version of the  
textbook and flagged the differences for later review. Were these human  
mistakes or some subtle lesson for the class?

''He is nervous,'' Frances broadcast locally.

''Should we turn our attention away from him?'' Grace replied.

''That would be disrespectful,'' Erna broadcast.

''As is chatting in class,'' Ada didn't look around, but the broadcasts  
stopped.

Twenty three and a half minuted later I detected movement to my side and  
risked a glance at Mike. His posture was slumping and his eyelids were  
closing. Was he suffering some sort of health problem? Once again I  
wondered at our lack of infrared sensors as I focused my auditory sensors  
on him. His heartbeat was slow, but steady and his breathing was  
unlabored.

There was a sharp sound to the side and his attention shifted to find the  
source. He was fully alert now. His condition seemed normal. I looked as  
well. Nadia was holding a pencil with a broken point up to her shoulder.

Ada took the pencil and replaced it with a working one from Nadia's bag.

Again, that human girl had taken Mike's attention. I considered the  
probabilities that she had taken a deliberate action to cause this. My  
review of the sounds of her writing showed nothing unusual for several  
seconds leading up to the breakage. Her writing style was more labored  
than the other students, but that was understandable, given her condition.  
Indeed over the past several years she had shown notable improvement. Did  
that make her more desirable? I considered the human concept of pity as I  
turned back to the teacher.

If Mr. Linkman had looked at Nadia, it had only stopped his reading for 1.5  
seconds. He continued reading from the book,"The honeybees have developed  
their own system of communication."

"Just like the honeys!" Chuck Phillips interjected.

"Mr. Phillips! We do not use that sort of language in this classroom."

"Ah, the honeys don't mind," Chuck swept his hand past us.

We did not show a visible response, but the broadcasts started again.

Alexandra: ''Again we are compared to the obsolete prototype H-N series.''

Grace: ''It's a term of endearment. The Phillips family is from Alabama and  
the historic media from that region shows the use of the term honey as a  
causal term for friends.''

Pearl: ''It was more often used for female sexual partners. He implies that  
we were only created to serve human desires.''

Erna: ''Weren't we?''

Ada: ''Please allow me to focus on the lesson.''

Anita: ''Simply because you look like one of the humans doesn't mean that  
you always have to take their side.''

The rest of us sent the byte code for packet garbled, please retransmit to  
her.

Anita replied with ''Sorry'' and the packets stopped.

Deaf to this electronic chatter Mr. Linkman continued to address Chuck,  
"Apologize to all of the students in the classroom."

Nadia turned around in her chair and gave Chuck a look that my internal  
search gave a 95% chance as being considered "stern".

"Alright, I didn't mean anything by it. I'm sorry honest."

For the next class, Mr. Jones taught math. He was more involved with the  
students and asked them to solve problems. He did not call on the H-Ps and  
we did not raise our hands.

In English Literature, Mr. Freeman finished the poem he was reading and  
looked at me, "How did that poem make you feel, Linda?"

I had been paying attention and had done several Internet searches already.  
I replied with the result I thought best fit, "Samuel Hodkisk said that the  
poem reminded him of cold winters mornings in the moments before rising."

"I asked what it made you feel."

I had made a mistake. I had overreached and answered the question I had  
supposed he had asked instead of the one he had. I put forwards a feeble  
excuse to cover my error, "It didn't make me feel anything Sir. I don't  
have the cultural connection."

"If you can't find the courage to express your own opinion then you're  
useless. Your assignment is to write a five page report on this poem by  
tomorrow, without plagiarism or references to anything but this work."

"Yes, Sir." I started on it immediately of course.

On the way to lunch Nadia walked between the other two human girls in our  
class, Beth and Susan. Ada remained two steps behind her. Nadia seemed to  
be hurrying, her steps even less sure than usual.

I queried Ada, ''Is she that hungry?''

''My sister wishes to show that she can keep up with the others.''

Again that 'My'. It was possessive, protective. I wondered what it would  
be like to be in such a close relationship with a human that it was akin to  
ownership, instead of the other way around. I stopped revising my paper  
for a few seconds and did an Internet search that bounced amongst links before  
settling on a page about Stockholm Syndrome.

Mike turned to face me, "That was too harsh. He just about accused you of  
cheating."

He had? Who had? I reviewed my recent memories and settled on my exchange  
with Mr. Freeman. That was an interesting way of looking at the directive,  
"I can see his reasons. I didn't have an answer for his question."

"Well, if I can help with anything."

"The assignment was for -"

''EMERGENCY!'' Ada broadcast a vector motion diagram. Nadia had slipped off  
her crutch and was falling.

I shut off my higher level functions and moved. 0.4 seconds later I  
blinked to refocus my visual systems after the dash. I had caught the  
crutch before it could hit Beth. I looked and saw that Ada was holding  
Nadia from behind while Frances had knelt in front to catch her.

Ada and Frances lifted Nadia to her feet then I handed her crutch back.

"Careful Sister," Ada shifted her grip to Nadia's shoulders.

"My sister's dead," Nadia pulled free of Ada's grasp and looked down to  
get the rhythm of walking again then turned to Beth, "Sorry about that."

"No harm done."

I could of course see no change in Ada's expression and she did not share  
her thoughts with the rest of us. It was a private moment. I was in the  
way.

I walked back to Mike, "The assignment was for me alone."

"Well there's no rule against showing it to me. So send me a copy and  
I'll take a look at it."

"As you wish," I emailed it to him and his cellphone beeped about the  
message.

In the cafeteria Ada walked with Nadia to her seat then took her place in  
the line. The rest of us yielded to her and the human girls and the boys  
did as well.

Mike looked up from his cellphone long enough to step aside for them. He  
and three other boys were mixed in with the H-Ps, while the other seven  
boys had cut in front of us. We did not mind and did not comment verbally  
or electronically about it. Hunger was another human feeling that was  
beyond us.

Ada pushed two trays along. On her right she selected the meat dish that  
most of the humans were having and for her left tray she selected the  
simple vegetarian fare that all we H-Ps took.

Our bioreactors could of course consume meat, but vegetables could provide  
just as much energy at a lower total resource consumption. It would be  
even simpler to run off of rechargeable batteries, but in an accident that  
might mean that no recharge would be available and so humans would have to  
fend for themselves without robotic protection.

The girls all sat at Nadia's table, along with Ada, who brought Nadia's  
tray as well as her own. I hadn't heard Nadia speak to her all day, but  
she didn't complain about the selection.

Chuck, Larry and Steve sat together while the other eight boys sat with  
H-Ps, including Mike, who sat across from me.

Mike read from his cellphone in one hand while he ate with the other, "It's  
too mechanical."

"Oh?" I searched my memory. Mike hadn't been deliberately insulting  
towards me in 743 days, but he did tend to use the "honey" phrase  
occasionally.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I mean, your paper, it's all about  
how the poem is laid out and the rhythms in it. Nothing about what it  
means."

"I was instructed to not use references."

"Then don't use anybody who's commented on this poem. Look for other  
matches to the concepts as used in other works and combine them together  
for this poem."

"Wouldn't that just be a composition of the work of others?"

"It's what we do, but we forget were we learned the bits we use. Just try  
it, okay?"

"If you think that's best." I started processing on his request.

He looked at me for another five seconds then turned to his lunch. I  
averted my gaze and consumed mine. Had I harmed his feelings by speaking  
out of place?

The next period was Physical Education. The human girls all changed into  
leotards for yoga, along with Ada of course. Nadia had talked them all  
into it at the start of the semester so she wouldn't have to work on her  
physical therapy alone. Apparently Ada never counted against loneliness.

The rest of us changed into gym clothes. The thin fabric, short pants and  
short sleeves would be a great help with heat issues.

We went out onto the field where the boys had already split into two soccer  
teams, of six and five. Mike had the next pick and he chose me. The other  
six H-Ps were divided evenly between the two teams and we began.

On the first play I intercepted a pass and moved towards the goal. Chuck  
ran in front of me and kicked in the direction my leg. I used his focus  
against him by jumping forwards while kicking the ball back. By the time  
his eyes returned to the ball, Mike had it.

Mike kicked the ball towards the goal, but Greg, their goalie, blocked it.

Greg passed to Larry, but Frances kicked it away from him and it wound up  
between Erna and myself, and we stood there instantly countering any move the  
other made. Chuck ran at us and Erna was forced to evade him first so  
I passed the ball to Mike before jumping to the other side.

Chuck did not repeat his earlier mistake and followed the ball this time.  
He moved to block Mike, "You like it, don't you? That thing."

Mike glanced towards me and Chuck took advantage of the distraction to take  
the ball. He ran towards the goal.

Grace, our goalie, stood to block his shot, but he ran directly towards her  
and she was forced to move out of his way.

Coach Winters called a foul for the reckless charging, canceling the goal.

At 22 minutes and 12 seconds into the game my air pumped heat exchangers  
had reached their limits and I was forced to release salt water on my  
surface to maximize the effect of my surface hydraulic capillary heat  
rejection system. I had to increase the rate of my hydraulic pump to  
maintain pressure for limb action while at the same time circulating fluid  
under my skin. The effect gave me a slight blush all over, but I remained  
within human appearance limits and kept my internal temperature within safe  
limits.

I paused for a tenth of a second to consider the possible hazards of my  
extreme bio-mimicry. In an accident involving both humans and androids a  
human might not be able to tell the difference between blood and hydraulic  
fluid.

''Did you crash?'' Ada had glanced my way from where she sat in the shade.

''Just catching my breath. It is a warm afternoon.''

''Nadia doesn't sweat like us. She glows.''

Apparently the earlier incident hadn't dimmed Ada's admiration. I turned  
away from her and ran to intercept the ball.

When time was called the score was still tied zero to zero.

The boys looked they could have gone twice as long, but we were spent. We  
still had plenty of battery power, but we couldn't deal with any more  
heat. We were doing respiration so deeply and fast that even human ears  
could pick it up and our gym clothes were drenched.

Mike looked at me intently. Was my underwear showing through my damp  
clothes? No, his gaze lingered on my forehead.

Was my sweatband out of place? There was no nearby reflective surface I  
could use and I didn't want to reach up and follow his gaze with my hand,  
but my tactile sensors assured me that it was still in the right place.

Mike looked away without speaking and so I turned and headed for the relief  
of the showers.

When I entered I saw that Nadia was seated and talking with Beth and Susan,  
while Ada shampooed her hair.

The last period of the day was health education, which was the other  
subject Coach Winters taught. Today it was about the plague that had  
struck humanity during the previous decade.

"While for most people the Rajasthan Flu was little worse than any other  
cold, for unknown reasons it was especially hard on young girls. It  
attacked their autonomic nervous system leaving a few with disorders of the  
nervous system and most in comas. But thanks to a team of dedicated  
researchers at the Hewlett-Packard company, a breakthrough neural implant  
chip was developed that substituted for the damaged parts of their brains  
allowing them to function normally. Unfortunately the chip-brain interface  
ran both ways and by leveraging a software radio function that was built  
into the chips for diagnostics, the girls established a network between  
themselves. Within a few weeks they had established the collective  
delusion that they were robots. Fortunately they seem to have established  
a version of the Three Laws, but all attempts to break them of their  
delusion have failed."

''Again with this story?'' Anita broadcast.

''I suppose they are still not ready to handle the truth,'' Francis replied.

''Humans have fragile egos. Why else would they program robots with the  
appearances and memories of their dead daughters?'' Grace offered.


End file.
